02/15/2013

I've been meaning to write this for a while. I viewed the documentary, "The Last of McGuiness" a few weeks ago, and it's stuck with me since then. The movie, an in-depth account of Nigel McGuinness's farewell wrestling tour in late 2011 can be tough to watch at times - not because it's bad; to the contrary, it's very good - but because it can be unflinching in depicting Nigel's pain, frustration, and, quite often, bitterness, as an end comes to a career that has not brought him all he hoped.

One of the things that kept running through my mind as I watched the movie was just how far Nigel's image of himself and his place within the business varied from my own perception of him. Prior to watching his documentary, had anyone asked me whether Nigel McGuiness had "made it" in the business, I would have said "oh sure; Nigel was one of the best." After all, he had the great run in ROH, with state of the art matches with Bryan Danielson, and, when given his shot on a national platform, had a great run with Kurt Angle. What more could a guy want? He had the respect of his peers, some legitimate "match of the year" contenders, and a run on top - with Kurt Angle, one of the best of all-time - in a national promotion. So why didn't Nigel see himself as having made it?

Oh yeah, there's that tricky issue of being able to make a living doing what you love to do. I'd heard vague rumors as to why Nigel had been let go by WWE. But guys get let go by WWE all the time; it's just one of those unfortunate facts of life. But, when see in the context of Nigel's film, it's just heartbreaking to see how close he came to achieving his dream, only to see an old bicep injury provide an unceremonial exit. But I saw him as having landed on his feet with the move to TNA, and the matches with Angle as vindication for his WWE departure. Obviously, while watching the film, I learned that Nigel didn't see things in quite the same light.

One gets the sense from watching the movie that Daniel Bryan's success has made Nigel's departure from the business particularly difficult. Not because he wishes any ill-will to his former ROH colleague, but becasue Bryan (Danielson) like McGuiness, was a guy who on paper, should not have become a star in WWE. Too small, not colorful enough, too much of a technician - not enough of a character. But yet, there is Bryan an unlikely WWE Superstar reaching heights that no one (at least not this particular wrestling enthusiast) could have predicted. After spending quite a bit of time with ROH in 2005, I thought both Danielson and McGuiness were great wrestlers, and even back then, I could see Danielson's sense of humor peeking through. But I never went to bat for either man, as far as WWE reccomendations went. I highly recommended Punk, Samoa Joe, and pitched Homicide as a guy who could brawl or wrestle, who wrestled much "bigger" than his actual size, who could connect with a different type of audience than the luchadors who were expected to appeal to the entire Hispanic viewing audience.

But Nigel always struck me as such a nice chap, seemingly happy with the cards the business had dealt him. Always seemed upbeat, never a hint of the frustration that just about consumes him in this documentary. On occasions where I've done reality TV/documentary work, I've always realized that my fate lay partially in the hands of the editors. But, in McGuiness's case, he is the editor, and how well he comes accross is largely up to him. The fact that he willingly airs footage of his post-retirement tantrum is a brave move, and one that illustrates his quest to ducument the truth, even when the truth is far from pretty. His admission that the nightly retirement tributes and speeches felt less and less authentic was another bold statement that could easily have been left on the editing room floor. Yet Nigel keeps it, and the film is better off for his lack of vanity.

I was by myself when I started watching Nigel's film. But over the course of the viewing, I was gradually joined by all my children, ages 21, 19, 12 and 9. None of them left. All of them stayed, interested, even transfixed by the events unfolding on their TV screen. All the while, I kept thinking, "I hope Nigel gets some closure out of this", hoping that the filming and editing process would allow him another look and some appreciation for everything he accomplished in a very productive career. This does seem to be the case (don't want to ruin the ending, but you might enjoy it more if you know there is a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel) and my hope as the credits rolled was that Nigel would someday be able to look back on his career and realize that being among the very best in the world, and having the matches to prove it, should provide its own comforts - even if it's not enough to fully cushion the blows taken - both physically and emotionally along the way.

I hope you'll give "The Last of McGuiness" a try. Don't rent it or borrow it. Buy it from the man himself at http://nigelwrestling.com . His heart, hopes, sadness, frustration and, ultimately, his redemption are all over this film.

01/12/2013

I've been thinking about writing about Buddy Roberts, since learning of his November 29th passing. It was mid-December when I finally got the word - giving an indication of how much attention his passing received in the mainstream wrestling world. I just didn't know how many modern fans would remember Buddy, or how relevant his career might seem to those who never had the priviledge of seeing Buddy in his prime - as one half of The Hollywood Blondes in the 1970's, or as one third of the ground-breaking, star-making, top-drawing Fabulous Freebirds of the 1980's. I knew there would be others who could write more knowlegeably about his career, and his influence on the business. But as a guy who knew Buddy for over 25 years (I met him either in November, 1986 or January 1987), and most importantly, as a guy who has been doing some serious thinking on the subject, I feel like I have to share at least a few thoughts on Buddy Roberts - as a wrestler, an inspiration, and as a friend.

By the time I met Buddy, on a Mid-South swing into Ohio and West Virginia, I was already well-versed in the legendary accomplishments of The Freebirds - both in and out ofthe ring. Inside it, The Birds were innovators and money-drawers; a team comprised of three very different parts, three very different people, who somehow operated as one cohesive unit. Michael Hayes was the mouthpiece and the focal point of The Birds. He was one of the best talkers this business has ever known, and, to those who watched him, either hating him, or loving him - because there was no in-between - almost tough enough to back up his words all by himself. That's where Terry Gordy came in; he backed up the game Hayes talked, and did it as convincingly as any big man of his era. There would be those - like me - who would watch - as fans - and wonder why we should believe that a wrestler like Gordy - muppet-like in features, thick, as opposed to muscular in stature - should be taken seriously as an ass-kicker. Then we'd watch him at work. and come to believe pretty quickly that he should be taken seriously as an ass-kicker because he dealt out some serious ass-kickings. Then, there was Buddy.

Buddy was the guy it took a little longer to appreciate. I'm not sure if I appreciated him at first. I was in The Garden in New York City the night they made their sole appearance. If memory serves me right, it was August, 1984, and I had taken my parents to MSG to see Snuka vs Piper. Yes, that's the type of caring son I was. Out came this legendary team I'd been reading about for years in PWI, and to tell you the truth, I wasn't that impressed - mainly by Buddy. I was less than a year away from entering the wrestling business myself, and looking at Buddy, I thought I had a realistic shot at him. But that was actually part of his charm. Half the audience on any given night in the Sportatorium probably thought they had a reasonable shot against him - yet there he was, on a weekly basis, creating mayhem, delivering cheap-shots, dishing out punishment to the heroic Von Erics.

When I did get into the business, in the Spring of 1985, and slowly came to learn the inner working of the busines - or at least the inner workings of the workers in the business, I came to marvel at Buddy Roberts. He was the guy who took the beating. He was the guy who dropped the fall, but somehow maintained his heat. He would do anything to make his matches exciting - including the rumored dropping of the first elbow off the ring apron. He could make anyone and anything around him look better. If someone around him was bad, he could make them look good. If they were good, he could make them look great. And if something was great - like The Fabulous Freebirds - he could help turn greatness to legend.

Buddy had his demons, to be sure. Not everyone gets an added middle name (Jack) based on their beverage of choice. Not everyone gets to have that nickname turned into a verb, based on the change in his behavior when enjoying that beverage of choice. The term "jacked off" had no sexual connotation when used in conjunction with Buddy Jack. It was just a way of describing his lively change in behavior when enjoying his drink of choice. While I admit that I did see an occasional episode of Buddy J-ing off, there was a far different side of Buddy "Jack " Roberts that drew me to him as a friend, and an inspiration.

It was Buddy, along with Terry Taylor, Chris Adams, Eddie Gilbert and Missy Hyatt who started spreading the word about the two DeNucci students (me and Shane Douglas) who were tearing down the house in towns like Hundred, Virginia. The traditional Mid-South strongholds in Louisiana, Texas, etc had been hit hard by a recent slowdown in an oil-based economy, and owner Bill Watts was looking to expand to other areas where his sydicated, state-of-the-art TV show was popular. Shane got his shot with Mid-South. I kind of blew mine (see "Have a Nice Day", the Sam Houston "phantom elbow" match) but Buddy Roberts wouold nonetheless stay an outspoken advocate of mine, until we did meet up again - briefly in Memphis, and then in World Class Championship Wrestling.

The Freebirds were no more by then - Michael Hayes had gone on to WCW, and Terry Gordy was adding to his legend in Japan. Buddy was the manager of The Samoan Swat Team - in my opinion, the single most physicall dominant tag-team I'd ever seen. Try to find them in their World Class Days; they were awesome! Well. the SST got the call from WCW, and Buddy didn't get to go. He'd mellowed, with the help of his lovely wife Janice, and I'd often travel to shows wiuth them, absorbing as much knowledge as I could. I have a photo of my last day in World Class - a day when Buddy Roberts helped me pack all my belongings (6 boxes) into my Plymouth Arrow - knowing that my "Loser Leaves Town" match with Eric Embry was not likely to go my way. It's a photo ofme with my wrist brace ( a souvineer from my Ft Worth "Scaffold Match" that did not go particularly well) taking a break and enjoying ice pops with Buddy's 3 year-old son, Brandon. Still tough for me to believe that the little kid with the ice-pop is now 27 years old.

Yes, Buddy "Jack" Roberts was a friend of mine. But is he still relevant? After giving it some thought, I became almost ashamed of myself for even wondering. Though he may be gone in person, his spirit still lives. It lives in every bad guy who makes us laugh, even while we hate them. It lives in the memory of Kurt Angle wearing that ridiculous wig underneath his head-gear, trying to claim he hadn't actually lost his hair. Vintage Buddy Roberts. It lives in the stories Chris Jericho tell - of challenging Y2J to meet me at my book-signing at 7pm at the Walmart in St Louis if he wanted a piece of me. Different time, different signing, but vintage Roberts as well - and the most successful book-signing I ever had. It lives, most importantly, in the mind of Michael Hayes, whose creative mind has left such an indelible stamp on the WWE landscape for the better part of 20 years. Without the influence of Buddy Roberts, I just don't see Hayes leaving that indelible stamp..and without Hayes' indelible stamp, World WQrestling Entertainment would be a far differnt place; less dynamic, less creative, less fun. Most of our WWE Universe has never seen footage of Buddy Roberts. Fewer still got the chance to see him live. A lucky few had the chance to know him. Yet, without our realizing it, Buddy Roberts has been entertaining us for years.

My inclusion into the 2013 WWE Hall of Fame has been an honor of the highest magnitude - an event I know will go down as one of the highlights of my career, probably my life. But as I finish this piece on Buddy Roberts, I can't help but wish that Buddy Roberts had been given that same honor during his lifetime, and can't help but hope that the doors of the Hall will someday open for Buddy, for Terry, for Michael.

09/17/2012

About a year ago, I had my first official meeting with WWE
in three years. I discussed a number of subjects with Triple H, and after
shaking hands on the potential of a working relationship, I thought of one last
pressing concern – a little something that had been in the back of my mind for
the past eight years. “You know, I’d
really like to write another children’s book.”
It probably sounded almost like an afterthought, but the truth was, I
missed writing children’s books.

After the disappointing
numbers “Tales From Wrescal Lane” (which I absolutely loved writing) put up,
the world was not exactly beating down a path to my door, begging for a sequel.
The world of literature had changed A LOT since 2000, when “Mick Foley’s
Christmas Chaos” put in some serious
hang time on the New York Times children’s best-seller list – despite being
banned in some stores (for the depiction
of a naked elf) and filed away under “adult humor” in others; kind of hurting
me in the Santa Claus market. I followed it up with another Times best-seller, “Mick
Foley’s Halloween Hijinx” and even read the book to Katie Couric on “Today.” I
was on a roll, brother – 4 books, 4 best-sellers; batting 1,000 when it came to
hitting the exclusive Times list.

I’m 5 for 9 now, with only 1 of my last 5 books hitting that
list. I came to realize how special it is to have a book hit that list at all,
given the 1,000’s of authors whose hard work and dreams will never be seen by a
single set of eyes, let alone a mass audience. I also came to see just how
integral timing is when it comes to the promotion of these books.

Man, what I wouldn’t
give for the market to be like it was in 1999, when “Have a Nice Day” seemed to
be exactly what WWE fans were clamoring for..and when all I had to do to
promote it was show up with it on TV. I remember shooting a commercial for
overstuffed beef ravioli, where Mankind, as the Boy-R-Dee-avore was posed in
the foreground of the Statue of Liberty, a can of overstuffed beef ravioli held
aloft, like the Lady of Liberty’s torch. I mentioned to the director that the Statue
was holding a book in her other hand, and that in order for our overstuffed
embellishment to feel more legit, I should probably hold some type of book in
my other hand, too.

“Good idea”, the director said. “It’s too bad we don’t have
some kind of a book with us.”

“I think I may just have a book”, I said. Presto, national
advertising!

That was 13 years ago. Chances are, I’m not going to be on WWE
TV too much, holding “A Most Mizerable Christmas” aloft. The company loves the book, though, and
I think we could have a nice little success on our hands. But I measure success
a little differently in 2012 than I did in 1999. Back then, I was looking to
hit best-seller lists and to be well compensated for my efforts. This time, my
goal is really simple: I just want “A Most Mizerable Christmas” to do well
enough to merit another book – hopefully a Halloween book in the fall of 2013.
I would love to do a series of these children’s books, where I get to right all
the wrongs in the world (or at least the little corner of it known as Wrescal
Lane) in 20 minutes of rhyme.

Like I said, no one was beating a path to my door, pleading
with me to write another children’s book. I wrote the story and pitched the
book in front of the marketing team, telling them for the first of many times
that “this is not about money.” It’s not
about the money. Yes, I’ll be making a little bit, but promoting this book is
largely going to be a labor of love. I’m really hoping this book will be my
gateway into becoming a much bigger part of WWE’s “Be a STAR” campaign, and
that the Superstars and Divas whose childhood likenesses are on display in “A
Most Mizerable Christmas” – especially The Miz (@MiketheMiz ) CM Punk ( @CMPunk
) and John Cena ( @JohnCena ) will get behind the book and send out an
occasional tweet or message.

I guess by now you know that I won’t be shy about getting
the word out. I love this book. I’m really happy with the rhymes and the feel
of the story, and the little lesson learned by The Miz. I love the fact that my
son Mickey inspired it when he was just 3 years old – when he told me to tell
Santa that he didn’t need any more toys. St Nick could simply give more toys to
the kids who really needed them. I love the idea of being a children’s book
author for the first time in 8 years. I know parents are going to love reading
it to their children, as much as children love having it read to them. Despite
the fact that I kind of liked being that rebel with the book that had been banned,
I love the fact that this book is not going to offend anyone. Sure, there is
one lone reference to pee-pee, but at worst, it’s a single PG line in an
otherwise very G-rated book. Try it –
you’ll more than like it. You WILL love this book!Here's a sneak peek http://www.wwe.com/inside/miz-makes-classmates-un-merry-in-foleys-book-most-mizerable-christmas-26048041

The price in nice, too! You can pre-order it for right
around $10 US (that’s half of what my other children’s books were) at http://www.amazon.com/Most-Mizerable-Christmas-Mick-Foley/dp/1465403450 or http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-most-mizerable-christmas-mike-foley/1112640933?ean=9781465403452
and for just under 10 pounds at http://www.amazon.co.uk/Most-Mizerable-Christmas-Mick-Foley/dp/1465403450 in the UK.
Yes, I’ll probably over-do my tweets about this book. But I would love to have
the chance to write a 2013 Halloween book, and more, much more in the future. Thanks
for reading, and for entertaining the idea that “A Most Mizerable Christmas”
will make for a most awesome gift!

08/18/2012

It’s been almost a week since I returned from the Edinburgh Fringe Festival – one of the great experiences of my life. The days I spent at The Fringe – five of them, were hectic. With only five days to spend in the most unique artistic atmosphere I’d ever witnessed, I longed to take in as much, to see as much, to learn as much as I possibly could. I did four shows of my own, guested on four others did three meet and greets ,and - in a quest to take in as much of The Fringe atmosphere, as I could - took in as many different shows in as many different atmospheres as I could.

I did separate podcasts with Matt Ricardo, an amazing magician, and Rich Herring, a brilliant comic. Matt was a huge wrestling fan who had done meticulous homework; Herring knew very little of me, and just winged it. Two completely different experiences; different styles, different crowds, different feels – but I enjoyed them both equally. I was reminded of the David Allen Coe song “If That Ain’t Country” and its line “where bikers stare at cowboys, who are laughing at the hippies, who are praying they’ll get out of here alive.”

Not that there was any hint of danger among the different sub-sects of performers at The Fringe. It certainly seemed that magicians hung with dancers, who chatted with the comics – and they all embraced a wrestler. I loved how such a diversity of talent managed to maneuver itself, in some surreal form of human, city-wide Twister into venues large, small, and even smaller. Much like the world of wrestling, whose stars occasionally arise from the unlikeliest of places, there is talent and passion to be found in every nook and cranny of The Fringe – from the obvious; the sold out shows of Fringe titans Brendon Burns (my comedy mentor) and Stewart Lee, to the obscure; perhaps my fondest memory of the festival took place, literally, in a cave.

Let me get my shows out of the way. I loved doing them. They were well-attended, audiences seemed more than satisfied (at this point most of my wrestling fans have no idea what to expect) and reviews, thus far, have been kind. While I wish I could have gotten a fourth star from Broadway Babies, the closing line – ‘if you’re a wrestling fan, you’ll love it, and if you’re not, you’ll like it” – is an incredibly astute and accurate summation..and one I will refer to with regularity when asked in the future to describe my show.

Just a few weeks ago, I may have put up some kind of argument, claiming that I used wrestling as a vantage point to jump into subjects on the world at-large. But then I went to Montreal and Edinburgh, and saw just how fortunate I was to have an audience at all, and just how foolish it would be to chase them away. If you want funny, I could have pointed you in many different directions at The Fringe – to Martin “Big Pig” Mor at The Stand, to Billy Kirkwood, killing for free at The Beehive, to Jim Smallman, to Carl Hutchinson, and so on and so forth. Maybe hanging with Craig Campbell, Glenn Wool and Stewart Francis (The Canadian Lumberjacks) for four nights was the best dose of medicine I possibly could have swigged. Campbell, with his amazing insight into different cultures (he had a ten minute conversation with a Polish cab-driver on a cavalry battle in Poland THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO) Wool, with his way-deeper- than they seem observations on religion and politics, and Francis, with his amazing sense of word-play were amazing comedians. I had amazing stories that I had learned to tell well. I know who I am now; I am a wrestler telling wrestling stories for wrestling fans. And I’m finally cool with that. Thanks for the wake-up call, Montreal and Edinburgh. I’ll apologize ahead of time if this wrestling sub-sect ends up over-running The Fringe in a few years.

Several months ago, I had written a blog about the hardships I was facing as a wrestler-turned-comic; about how difficult it was to convince those people who already liked me to take a chance on watching me try something new. Worst of all, I wrote, I had to continually tweet about my upcoming experiences, which some Twitter followers didn’t enjoy. Some simply didn’t care to see me anywhere but in a wrestling atmosphere. Some thought I was “whoring myself out” to be informing people of gigs they had no wish to be informed about. Some just thought it was sad. I’ll admit that a line from a Las Vegas review from two years ago “the man who used to play to tens of thousands, now plays to tens of tens” still stings from time to time.

I love how it feels to be up on that stage - creating, entertaining; making an audience laugh, wince, gasp, or even shed a tear every now and then. It feels so much like everything I loved about wrestling – but with the type of pain that’s usually confined to psychological. No matter how bad the gig – and I’ve had some stinkers – I believe my work-related late night emergency room visits are a thing of the past. But up until recently, the high of that onstage rush seemed dwarfed by the awful low of having to actually, physically tweet about gigs – and face criticism because of it.

Then…I travelled to Edinburgh. I saw performers who knew going into The Fringe, that they had little chance of making money, little chance of drawing large crowds, little chance of fulfilling their dreams. I’d been told going in, that the average crowd for an Edinburgh show was three. Yet, these dedicated, talented performers do it because they love it, and because little chance is better than playing It safe in exchange for having no chance at all.

I met Carly Tarett while looking for my buddy Carl Hutchinson’s gig. She was handing out flyers, and was being most helpful, until having to inform me that she had her own show to go to. So I followed her a few blocks, to her one-woman show, Sinful and watched her act, imitate and sing her way through a labyrinth of complex characters – in front of an audience of ten. Suddenly, sending out a couple tweets a day didn’t seem like such an imposition. The theater I was performing in actually paid people to hand out my fliers.

I emerged from that small show with a better understanding of the dedication and the talent that runs rampant in this town every August – and with a heightened resolve to take in as much as I could while I still had the chance.

Half a block in front of me, I saw a yellow flyer fall from an anonymous backpack. Not intentionally discarded, but seemingly not such a valuable item as to be safely tucked away. I thought about yelling to the backpack guy. Instead, I promised myself that, time permitting, I would see whatever show was advertised on the flyer. I picked it up, saw an attractive blond woman, and the words “Kerry Gilbert: Triumphs”. Hmm, interesting, but too slightly too chick-humor looking; like the “Sex and the City” type stuff that I watched, but not too often, that I liked but never loved. If I’d picked up the flyer two hours earlier, I would have taken a pass. But the spirit of The Fringe now seemed to have a grip on me, making me wonder if it might not be fate leading me into a Cave to see the attractive woman on the yellow flyer. So, instead of taking a pass, I took a chance – and really haven’t been quite the same since. The Caves are aptly named; they are a series of small, musty theaters, seating a maximum of fifty, but usually inhabited by far less. I was one of only six to see “Kerry Gilbert: Triumphs” on that particular evening. Yet when Ms Gilbert took to the stage, it was with an enthusiasm and a joyfulness that immediately pushed the less-than-stately ambience from my mind. Within minutes, I no longer felt like I was in a tiny crowd; I felt, instead, like I’d been fortunate enough to have been led by luck or fate into this intimate audience with such a unique and charming talent.

Wrestlers sometimes have a tendency to look out on a small crowd and adopt an “F them” attitude, taking their frustration out on the wrong people – the ones who had the audacity to show up. There was not even a whiff of that attitude from Ms Gilbert that night, as she dove head-long into a menagerie of delightfully kooky characters, stories and songs – turning the dingiest of venues into the most spectacular of theaters, and transforming a beaten-down 47 year-old wrestler into the most starry-eyed of children. But transformations of this type aren’t unheard of. Disney’s Magic Kingdom does it for me. So does the occasional Broadway show, or the annual Radio City Music Hall Christmas spectacular. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter dies it for others. But those transformations are achieved through the work of hundreds, sometimes thousands, with staggering budgets and elaborate productions. Kerry Gilbert accomplished it, by herself…in a cave. And in doing so, she reminded me of one of the things I used to like about myself, but had lost along the way – the idea that every match was my most important match, no matter if it was in front of 26 fans in Poka, West Virginia (I counted) or in front of 65,000 at The Tokyo Dome.

I’m rediscovering that same passion I used to have for professional wrestling through the art of comedy. Some will say that what I do isn’t actually comedy – which is a fair criticism. “The Skinny” gave my show in Edinburgh 4 stars, but pointed out that what I do might be more accurately described as “spoken word” – which is probably true. But, that’s one of the thrills of The Fringe; figuratively watching the bikers stare at cowboys, who are laughing at the hippies, who are praying they get out of here alive.

I saw some of the very best comics in the world while I was in Montreal and Edinburgh. Comics who made me laugh uproariously, and chuckle and giggle, and all of the things that a good punch-line or well- crafted callback will do. I’m not sure I laughed more than once or twice out-loud while watching Kerry Gilbert. But I smiled from ear-to-ear for 55 minutes, and know I’ll think back often to that wonderfully wacky web she wove for me inside that dingy cave/spectacular theater. I may not be an expert on comedy just yet, but after 27 years in sports-entertainment, I believe I know “it” – those two tricky letters that can spell the difference between good and great - when I see “it”. And Kelly Gilbert has “it”. I hope some of you reading this – especially you reviewers - will venture forth into “Just the Tonic” at The Caves, at 6:30 pm and see if she can’t weave a web of similarly wacky wonderment just for for you.

There’s something for everybody at The Fringe in Edinburgh, be they biker, cowboy, hippie or magician, singer, comic. Friendship laughter, good food and drink are abundant. For the lucky few, there is money. But I think it was the wrestler who walked away from this particular Fringe with the best booty of all. The wrestler found his passion. And I don’t intend to lose it anytime soon. Thanks for an amazing, invigorating five days. I can’t wait to do it again.

08/05/2012

Michael PS Hayes is perhaps my favorite wrestling philosopher. He's also the last remaining man in America rocking a fanny pack, but that's a different story for a different time. Suffice to say that Hayes knows his stuff when it comes to the world of sports-entertainment. One of my favorite Hayes tales is that of a much-loved steak-house. Brother, people travelled great distances to get to that steakhouse, which featured some of the best damn steaks known to mankind (people as a whole, not the wrestler). Eventually, the steak-house began adding other selections to its menu - chicken, pasta, a variety of vegetables. The steak-house patrons raved about these new selections, saying things like "wow, have you tried the chicken at that steak-house? It's incredible!" The new items were so popular that the steak-house decided they could do without having steak on the menu at all...at which point, people stopped going to the steak-house at all.

Up until this past week in Montreal, I'd become so convinced that my chicken, pasta and vegetables were so good that I was thinking of removing steak from my comedy menu altogether. Thank goodness I came to my senses - with more than a little assistance from Australian comic Brendon Burns. If you've got a gimmick, work it. Just seeing such a vast list of comedians under one roof, most of them with many years of comedy experience, made me realize how fortunate I was to have a specialty item that set me apart; a way of attracting people into my particular establishment when there were so many others to choose from.

I saw literally dozens of comedians perform while I was in Montreal - all of them good, some of them great; masters of timing and one liners. But it's darn hard to create a fanbase for the vast majority of these comedians - a way of creating name-face recognition. As evidence, I'm hard-pressed to remember the names of all but a few of the comics I saw. Sure, some of the biggest stars in the comedy world were there - people with rockstar-like followings. But they had to work damn hard to get to that status - with most of them honing their craft in tiny clubs for little money, before eventually getting that name-face recognition thing going.

I got to see Amy Schumer, a comic who is right on the brink of beoming huge, and her material had me laughing out loud for a complete hour. If you get a chance to see her - do it! Follow her @AmySchumer as well. She's great..and she even tells a wrestling story, which her audience ate up. But that wrestling story is like one of those cool vegetables on Ms Schumer's much larger plate. Something tells me that an entire hour of"Schumer Talks Wrestling" would derail that promising career in a hurry.

Likewise, I can venture out of wrestling territory once in a while, as long as I don't stay away too long. As long as I remember that it's the steak, and not the chicken, the pasta or the vegetables that people are coming to dine on. I can talk current events, politics, Tori Amos, even porn, but an entire hour of "Foley Talks Boners" is not likely to be anyone's idea of a great night out.

I felt really good about the word of mouth and the reviews that Brendon Burns and I received for our shows in Montreal. I was relieved that a venerable comedy source like UK's Chortle enjoyed the show and treated it with respect. As Chortle reviewer Steve Bennett pointed out, that "it's not alienating for the rest of us." So if you're a wrestling fan, by all means, feel free to bring a brave and adventurous loved one to one of my shows. They'll have a good time. They'll enjoy all the side dishes, and they'll find the atmosphere to be warm and welcoming. But Montreal taught me that my shows aren't actually FOR them. They are FOR you, the wrestling fan.

I used to think that the mark of a good comic was having the ability to come up with new material for almost every show. I'd even go out of my way to make sure that the early and late shows in a particular venue (like London's Leicester Square Theatre) were completely different. You know who ended up benefitting from that decision? The three people who attended both shows. You know who that decision ended up hurting? The other 397 people in the audience. I'm going to stop worrying about what percentage of meterial is new, and which stories are already in print. Some stories take on entirely new life on stage. For example, the DDP cookie story, from 1999's "have a Nice Day" seems to be screaming out for a live re-telling. And with DDP himself in the crowd at the upcoming "Post-SummerSlam Jam" (August 19) the stage of The Hollywood Improv might just be the perfect place that dust off that old gem.

My experience in Montreal at the Just for Laughs festival taught me exactly who I was and what I do, just in the nick of time. I'm a wrestler who tells wrestling stories for wrestling fans. I do occasionally serve chicken, pasta and a variety of vegetables that I believe you will enjoy. I still believe I can make points about the world-at-large through lessons I've learned in 27 years in the wrestling business. But I will try to never forget that almost all of you are coming for the steak.

Catch me at The Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland from August 8-11, at the Post-SummerSlam Jam on August 19 in Hollywood, CA, or in Sioux Falls, SD on September 7 & 8. You can get tickets and information for these and all my upcoming shows at http://realmickfoley.com by clicking on EVENTS.

I am now represented by Joe Eshenbaugh at Innovative Artists. If anyone out there is looking to book a certain Hardcore Legend for comedy events, acting opportunities, voice-work, etc., please contact Joe at http://www.innovativecomedy.com/

I continue to be managed by the team of Braverman & Bloom , and continue to work for WWE.

05/18/2012

Until I watched this DVD in its entirety, I don’t think I’d ever paused to think about how appropriate that opening line “You think you know me” - from Edge’s entrance song truly was. As great as Edge was inside that ring - as classic as his matches were, as amazing as some of the feats of athleticism and bravery could be – what I found most enthralling about this new must-see DVD from WWE was the light it shone on Edge’s constant unveiling process.

The first word that came to mind for me was “chameleon” , as, throughout his career, Edge seemed to take on new characteristics, to constantly add layers to the complex character he portrayed so well and for so long on our TV screens, and in our arenas. But calling Edge a chameleon is almost an insult to the subtleties with which he was able to imbue into those layers. One didn’t watch a single episode of Raw, and say “look, there’s Edge changing before our very eyes.” He was more like an engine shifting gears so smoothly, you might not feel the shifts at all; you just suddenly realize you’re enjoying the ride of your life, without completely understanding how you got there.

This DVD does a tremendous job of describing that ride, and explaining its origin; how a young, shy kid named Adam Copeland followed his dream of one day being a WWE Superstar - through the independent ranks of Canada, getting his first taste of WWE, finding fame in the tag-team ranks, before shattering what had been thought to be the glass ceiling that separates those who are Superstars in name only, from those who exemplify the more traditional Webster’s definition of that word: “superstar”.

My main complaint on some DVD’s in WWE’s past, is that they seem almost formulaic – always well done and produced with that polish only WWE knows how to apply. But I sometimes got the idea that these DVD’s were relying on whatever interesting and knowledgeable talent wasn’t busy on a particular day. Like a stroll through catering would turn up just enough talent, who could provide just enough good sound-bites to give the WWE Universe just enough to keep them happy. I’m happy to say, that this DVD continues the recent trend as seen in the recent exemplary DVD’s on Stone Cold and The Rock - towards really searching out the people who knew the stories, who lived the matches, who were personal witnesses to the great moments that unfolded in Edge’s career.

Edge’s trainers – Sweet Daddy Sikki, and Ron Hutchinson are interviewed. Adam’s mom adds a great deal to her son’s story. The key guys on his rise to fame – including, of course Christian, share valuable insight into the mindset, work ethic and drive that took Edge to the top. Other WWE Superstars who were witnesses to different stages, who were there for the revelation of different layers, talk about what it was like to be along for those unique rides. But I give credit to WWE for reaching out to their former Superstars – guys like Rhyno , Dave Batista, Lita, Trish Stratus, Matt Hardy, and yes, even me – allowing this unique story to unfold and be told as accurately, and as interestingly as possible.

Quite simply, this is an amazing DVD, about one of the greatest WWE Superstars of all time. Like the career of Edge himself, it’s one heck of a ride.

05/08/2012

I WANNA WRITE

About a week after Dee Snider embarked on his journey into memoir writing, I received a voice message from the aspiring writer, concerned that the process was not going as hoped. “Mick, it’s Dee”, he said. “I’m taking a dump here. Could use your help.” No, it’s not what you think. The legendary Twisted Sister front-man was not looking to utilize me vaunted butt-wiping skills – as impressive as they may be. Instead he was hoping that a seasoned memoirist, with four (yes four) autobiographies to his name, could offer a little guidance.

Dee’s message had confused me however. I pictured the poor guy at the bowl of rock n roll literature, struggling in vain, straining away, unable to produce even a single nugget of knowledge. Instead, when I arrived at the Snider home – every bit as beautiful as it appears on reality television – I discovered that Dee could simply not producing these nuggets; the bowl of rock n roll literature was in real danger of over-flowing. They seemed to be just spilling out of him, word after word, story after story, with no end in sight.

My advice? Let it out. Let it all out. We can clean it up later.

Weeks later, I was flattered to be among the very first readers of the initial manuscript. Dee’s strain is our gain. “Shut up and Give me the Mic” is a great read; laced with the same humor, audacity and knowing appreciation for the bizarre that made Snider’s best songs so iconic. More importantly, Snider’s book serves as a valuable document to rock n roll history – about a band that played literally thousands of shows before they became an ‘overnight” success.
We’ve all read the somewhat typical tales of rock-star excess and debauchery as told to a journalist or ghost-written from hazy recollections. Snider’s book is different. By possessing both the foresight to remain clean and sober throughout his journey, and the determination to insist that every word on every page be his and his alone Dee Snider has given us a memoir that wants to –and does – rock. Thanks for all those nuggets of knowledge, Dee. You clean up nicely.

04/10/2012

This may come as something of a surprise to those who saw me only as a very minor player on the biggest show of the year, but this past Wrestlemania week may have been my busiest one yet. With no match or substantial role to worry about, I was able to take in the majesty of the occasion, and appreciate just how fortunate I was to take part in a veritable bonanza of Wrestlemania events. I visited a children’s hospital, presided over the WWE’s National Reading Challenge, walked the red carpet at a high-end fashion show, did a VIP signing at Axxess, attended the Hall of Fame induction ceremony and busted my butt to make my segment with Santino, Captain Keith and Ron Simmons the very best it could be. Truly, I felt like I was among the hardest working men in the WWE – with the keyword in that sentence being “men”. For if 2000 was the year I main-evented Mania, and 2004 was the reunion of the Rock’n’Sock Connection, and 2006 was the year I captured my elusive Mania “moment”, I believe I will look back on 2012 as the year I finally understood just how hard our WWE Divas work, how their contribution to the company extends far beyond their work inside the ring, and just how fortunate WWE is to have such diverse, determined group of young women representing them.

There will always be part of me that is proud to be considered “old school” - for that romantic image of sacrifice, paying dues and respect that such a sacred term brings to mind. Several years ago, when I heard of WWE’s intention to actually recruit beautiful women and teach them to wrestle, I thought the notion to be utterly ridiculous. You didn’t find the female stars of tomorrow through a televised search; you found them the old-fashioned way – by finding that certain quality that allowed talent to shine in the armories, middle school gyms, and county fairs that dot the independent wrestling landscape. Female wrestlers, I was sure, could only be found training in the Dojos of Japan, like Kharma, finding bookings in whatever country would have her, like Lita, catching eyes and turning heads at every stop like Melina or Beth Phoenix, or born with the business in their blood, like Natalya or Tamina.

I still think I’m largely right; combing those Indy shows is still a great way to find those stars of tomorrow, and I hope one day I can suggest a few women who have done great things, and fallen just short of a well-deserved shot with WWE. But as I’ve come to see, you really can recruit beautiful women and teach them to wrestle – if they’re willing to work for it. This business has a way of weeding out the ones that don’t really want it. If you don’t learn to love it, you’re usually going to hate it – that’s just the nature of the beast that asks those lucky enough to be selected to find the joy in being slammed repeatedly, both emotionally and physically, while traveling the country and the world at a pace that few could withstand.

I began to see the possibilities about the time I realized Candice Michelle had somehow morphed from a charming, beautiful young woman into a hard-working, top notch performer. I happened to be backstage getting ready for my match at the 2007 “Night of the Champions” when Candice returned from her match, tears of joy streaming down her face after winning her first World Championship. She’d learned to love the business – and it showed. It showed in so many of the new generation of Divas, too – from those mean girls in Lay Cool, to the naughty, demonstrative Maryse, (I’m still the only announcer to properly say her name) to the world’s most beautiful wedding planner, Alicia Fox, to my future partner in RAINN fund-raising, Eve Torres, to the two (or three, depending on how you look at it) most unlikely Diva success stories I could imagine – Kelly Kelly and The Bella Twins.

It’s hard for me to even fathom that Kelly Kelly has been in WWE since 2006. But go back to that summer and you can actually see footage of Ms Kelly dancing, with Melina and yours truly (yes, I was actually dancing on ECW, albeit poorly) while Joey Styles provides the very finest in shocked and bewildered commentary. I vividly remember thinking, “nice kid, beautiful girl…she’ll never make it”, after that initial dance extravaganza. Yet, there she was, six long years later, hitting a move I’d never seen, on the biggest show of the year in front of 78,000 screaming fans.

I smile every time I think of Brie and Nikki Bella. Maybe because I honestly never thought I’d see them again after our inaugural (quite memorable) interaction over five years ago. Months later, I was stunned to see them hanging on - when I had the opportunity to address WWE developmental talent in the fall of 2007. I had thought the wrestling business would have chewed them up and spit them out almost immediately. Yet there they were, perspiring profusely, listening intently, looking down-right determined, giving me tiny, identical waves, as if to say, “yes, it’s us, we’re still here…surprised?”

I’ve had a chance to see them progress from afar, and a little chance to get to know them as individuals since I’ve been back in WWE. I can even tell them apart most of the time. Most recently, I had a chance to watch them represent the WWE over a five day period in Miami. Remember me telling you how I felt like I was the hardest working man in WWE that week? But this particular man didn’t even come close to carrying the work-load of Brie or Nikki and so many of our wonderful Divas. They did everything I did..and then some – with finesse, elegance, beauty, and high-heels!

Maybe the Bellas make me smile because they are symbolic of the idea that sometimes, you really can teach an old dog new tricks – that my way may not be the only way and that that the venerable old-school – as tried and true as it may be, is not the only place to instill a passion, a love and a commitment for one’s craft. I used to resent those I encountered so frequently who judged my particular book by its tattered cover. But recently, I’ve come to see that I can be just as guilty when it comes to matters of pre-judging others in our business. I think it’s just human nature to jump to conclusions, whether those conclusions are arrived at by pre-judging beauties or the beasts.

Funny how our WWE Divas can make me feel so good about being so wrong on so many different occasions.

03/16/2012

FINALLY…The Sock can stop bothering you! Actually, it wasn’t that bad, was it? I know I was pretty steady with the plugs for RAINN and the raffle for an entire month. But when it was all said and done, YOU raised almost $60,000 to help survivors of sexual violence*, AND you helped create awareness about a subject that is difficult for most people to speak of, let alone do something about. At the beginning of the raffle, I wrote that we would need about 2,500 entrants to meet my hopes for a very successful event. That’s almost exactly what we got! I really can’t thank all of you enough for the generosity to give of yourselves at a really tough financial time; knowing that the odds of winning were extremely small, but that the act of giving was just as important as the luck of winning. Well, maybe not QUITE as important as winning, but pretty close! I admit, there was a little part of me – the glass half empty part - that wondered why more people weren’t climbing on board The Hardcore Legend’s raffle train, especially with the incredible Grand Prize I’d assembled – with A LOT of help from WWE. But I stopped looking at that glass half-empty a couple of weeks ago, and thought instead of how many of you were entering, tweeting, re-tweeting or spreading the word through some other means. We had almost FIVE HUNDRED new entrants on the last day of the raffle alone – with many of them making purchases of hundreds of dollars in raffle tickets. So many of the messages I received were of a similar sentiment: “I hope I win, but if not, I’m happy the money is going to a great cause.” By the end of the raffle, I had not only stopped looking at the glass as half-empty, but had come to see it as almost overflowing with good cheer! Even though the raffle drawing is officially over, I won’t feel like my job is done until the winner of the raffle - a very excited young man from Ontario, Canada, is heading north on a plane from Miami, after having the best Wrestlemania experience imaginable. Honestly, I thought the winner was going to come from the UK, where we had so much support and interest. I hope that all of you, from around the world, will consider entering again next time. Our winner and his guest have agreed to let us film the raffle-winning festivities during the weekend, and I hope that I can use the footage to let others see and feel the majesty of the occasion; to let them see that people really do win – and that the possibility of winning a future raffle is only a small purchase away. I’m already thinking of ways to make next year’s raffle EVEN better, and am hoping that I can combine forces with The Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels to form some sort of a Super-raffle for a winner and THREE guests to have the adventure of a lifetime in New York City and New Jersey. I know HBK’s raffle this year is likely to bring in quite a bit more than mine, but I really believe the two of us together can make a combined effort bigger than the sum of its parts – and really show the world what a difference our sports-entertainment world can make. WWE was so good to both of us to make our raffles a reality, but I’m hoping that next year, they will embrace the idea with even more enthusiasm – making it accessible to even more of the WWE Universe. I KNOW I’m going to leave out a few people here, but there are so many people to thank – and I’d really like to name as many as I can, instead of just the blanket “thanks”. Thanks to the WWE’s lovely Sue Achison for making the Mania tickets HOF and Axxess tickets a reality. Did you know that Sue let me sit at the WWE table at the USO Gala in DC last year, even though I was obviously not an official part of the company? But, somehow, I was always part of the extended, dysfunctional WWE family. Thanks to Chelsea, Kate, Alyssa and Scott and all the members of my RAINN family. Keep doing what you do. Thank you Eve Torres, for wading into this this thing with me, and for being a great partner - even after breaking my Broski’s heart. Thanks to the assorted, eclectic group of WWE Superstars and Divas, Impact wrestlers and Knockouts who got the word out via the miracle of Twitter and other means: CM Punk, Chris Jericho, Zack Ryder, Beth Phoenix, The Bella Twins (who I absolutely adore) Paul Bearer, Kharma, David Otunga, Randy Orton, Joey Styles, William Regal. AJ, Natalya, Stacy Keibler (yes, we stay in touch)Billy Corgan (honorary wrestler, shredder of Stratocasters and Smasher of Pumpkins)JBL, Shelly Martinez, Lilian Garcia, Good ol’ JR, Tommy Dreamer, Kurt Angle, Jeremy Borash, Colt Cabana, Daffney ODB, DDP. Shawn Grande (Boston Celtics radio hunk) Richelle Carey (CNN Headline News achor) Kadee Strickland (incredible actress, even better person) Hurricane Helms, J-E- Ha ha-Double F, J-A-Ha ha, double R, Ha ha, Double T – Jeff Jarrett, Dee Snider, Jill Thompson (illustrator of two of my WWE books) Velvet Sky (initiator of naughty motor-boating incident) Shawn Michaels, The Blue Meanie, Maria, Bret hart, Matt Hardy, The Miz, X-Pac, Lance Storm, Wade Barrett, Lita, Melina, Maryse, MVP, Trish Stratus and Al Snow. Wait, come to think of it, Al Snow did NOT tweet about the raffle. Not even once. My bad. I KNOW I’m missing some people. But clearly, there was no shortage of people willing to help, and no shortage of me nagging them to help me. But, hey, on this, the 18th anniversary of the loss of my right ear (still March 16th on the west coast) I think I’ve earned the right to badger people once a year when I think the cause calls for it. And I felt like this cause called for it. Wait, I remember now one of the people I left out. You! Because none of this happens without your support. Thanks so much.

* If you, or someone you know is a survivor of sexual violence, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE or log onto the RAINN's online hotline at http://rainn.org Information on rape, sexual assault and incest, as well as information on how to donate or volunteer can also be found at http://rainn.org

11/12/2011

Just taking in all of the events and memories of the last two weeks. An amazing time, an amazing tour, even if I was a little disappointed in my performance at the second London show. But to paraphrase Meat Loaf here, "don't be sad, cause 8 out of 9 ain't bad." Besides, you learn as much, if not more from your mistakes as you do your successes, and I will be raring to go when I return to the UK in 2012. Here's how the tour is looking - websites, links, on-sale dates and more will be available very soon at http://mickfoleystandup.co.uk or http://realmickfoley.com